ShortStory: Perfect Rebirth
Why do I live, when I am nothing more than an insignificant form of life. Broken. Twisted. Demented.
Why do I breath the unforgiving air that surrounds me, when I know that the sour scent of my own burning desires is all that I would ever inhale.
It’s as if god is punishing me for a life I’ve yet to fully experience. A life where death overpowers my last thread of sanity. Of decency.
The unforgivable torment I’ve suffered since birth. The very thought of me living provokes myself to consider an early retire. Suicide.
Where did my once friendly and talkative guide go to, and why did he leave me here to rot. This is not a life worth living.
I’m incapable of surviving. My mothers death will spark the first drop of blood from my slow-beating heart. My connection with the world, my key to the lock. Gone. Buried. Dead.
When her physical self becomes a cold corpse at the side of the metaphorical road, I shall quickly litter my ash beside her. My skin touching the trail of her blood. My darkness evaporating into the burning air.
As I inhale one last deep breath, I felt my heart stop beating. My body is now a giant pin with no needles. Numb. Silent. Dark.
Then a light of great brightness broke through this never-ending blackness of death, but this was not the light of god. This was something else entirely.
This was a new beginning. A rebirth into a body with strong supernatural capabilities. I wouldn’t reside on earth. I wouldn’t even be of the human race. Earth, purposely corrupted. Purposely violent. Earth was hell. An afterlife of lost souls in psychical form. An average of 80 years. Seemingly endless torture.
But here I am. Death has struck loudly in my ear, and now I reside within a new race. A new planet formed on the idea of peace, love and prosperity. If only I had killed myself at an earlier time. These new experiences of peace cannot be described in words.
But I fear that my new life cannot last. It’s too perfect to be real. The life of a human will tell you that all good things must come to an end, and if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.
That is why I am ending this story. So I can remain conscious inside of this perfect world for all of eternity. If the words are no longer being written, I can not be banished off of this perfect planet. To experience hell once more. To be human.
Goodbye, and send the devil my love.